The Rough Patch
by idioticonion
Summary: Sometimes being in love just isn't enough. Barney/Robin, with spoilers up to The Rough Patch.


**The Rough Patch**

_Duel Citizenship_

"You're too skinny," Robin complained, helping Barney through to the bedroom and supporting him as his crutches fell to the floor. 

"No. No!" Barney help aloft a finger. "Candians are freakishly big. I'm normal-sized." 

Robin grinned, took his finger and kissed it. Then when he gave her that goofy smile, she pinched his arm. "See, you're just skin and bone." 

His face fell. "I'm _lean_. And mean. And a lovin' machine!" To make his point, he pulled her down on to the bed, wincing as his bound foot fell at an awkward angle. 

"You're way too vain," Robin giggled, fingers pulling insistently at his suit, the soft fabric strangely resistant to her attempts at getting him naked. "Sorry, did I hurt you?" 

He fixed his lips to her chest, just above the swell of her breast, seemingly hyper aware of everywhere she touched him, of her judging him. "Only when you broke my ribs, apparently." 

She had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Barney, I didn't-" 

He silenced her with a kiss. Neither of them knew it then, but it was the beginning of the end. 

_Say Cheese_

A few weeks later, after Robin passed her citizenship test, the two of them felt the beginnings of a shift, the foremost being that they seemed to lost their friend's approval overnight. 

Lily threw an impromptu party.

In the kitchen, Robin watched Barney carefully as he pulled off his suit jacket, revealing a change in his silhouette. "Wow, you've been hitting the gym."

He shrugged, taking a plate and filling it with only protein-rich party food. "It ain't a thing."

"Is this because I called you skinny?" Robin blurted. "Only I've never seen you eat this much."

"I've lost a lot of weight these past couple of years. I used to live on steak. You know that." He make a clicking sound with his tongue and turned away from her.

"I was joking, dude." Robin said, reaching forward for his arm. Boy, those muscles felt good though. She wasn't exactly going to complain if he wanted to bulk up a little.

He didn't answer her, didn't look at her. The three lines on his forehead deepened. Robin grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and was about to head back to the living room when she heard him say, "They all think we're gonna break up."

She turned to look at him. "Well good. We've talked about this. The less expectation, the better."

This didn't seem to reassure him. "Let's get away. Celebrate. Do something fun and physical."

Robin couldn't help but smirk. "Barn, all we ever do is the fun and the physical stuff."

"Well, if you don't wanna go with me to Aspen this weekend, Scherbatsky?" He produced a couple of tickets out of thin air.

"Aspen?" She grabbed at the tickets, unable to hide her delight. "You're taking me skiing?"

He smirked. "Yeah, because it's the nearest to Canada I could think of without us actually having to, you know, go to _Canada_." He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust.

"You're an idiot."

He laughed. "Once was enough." 

Later, when Lily took the obligatory group photograph, they played along with the general consensus that their relationship was doomed. But Robin had never felt happier. 

_Bagpipes_

Sometimes their arguments got pretty heated. Robin tried to deal with it in the same way that she did with Ted - she used sex as the ultimate hail Mary pass. 

At the beginning, it was easier to pretend to the others that they just didn't argue. Firstly, they got the opportunity to be smug, and secondly, the subterfuge was a huge turn on. 

But after Robin got her dual citizenship, things changed. Ted got on this weird crusade to prove they _did_ fight, and it totally spoiled the game. So they came clean and admitted that, yes, they fought like cat and dog. 

Why should anyone be surprised? 

Their relationship was defined by passion, after all. Put together two super-competitive people who would never back down in a game of chicken and what did you get? Risky, out-door sex (and the occasional accompanying fine, which Barney paid, gladly), Tears and scratch marks and orgasms that went on for days. 

Was there anything wrong with that? They weren't hurting anyone. 

And okay, so occasionally they got pretty loud. Robin pretended to be outraged when Ted, in his weirdly prudish way, pointing out the high-volume sex noises that their neighbours were making. She didn't have the heart to explain that most of that time the noises were coming from her and Barney. 

There were weird acoustics in the apartment. Some kind of air duct that redirected sound. 

And from the first day they got together to the very last, just before they broke up, her and Barney's sex life was awesome. Even their fights were theatrical, outrageous, ardent.

Looking back on it, months later, Robin missed it all. She felt Barney's absence, like two black dots obscuring her vision, from where she'd looked at the sun for two long.

_Storm Troopers_

Only twice during their brief relationship did Robin think that Barney was cheating on her. Considering his history, this was probably a miracle.

Except that she couldn't believe he'd have the energy to cheat on her, when they drove each other so relentlessly in the bedroom. It was like, all along, they knew they had to cram in as much sex, as much variety in as possible, before they burned out. 

The second time Robin thought Barney was cheating on her was a week before they broke up. After spending almost every night together since the beginning of summer, he suddenly began making excuses. Lame excuses, obvious lies, and it annoyed her. It insulted her intelligence. 

Robin left it three nights, silently fuming, bringing her anger to a boil, before she rounded on him at the Bar. "What the hell is going on?" She demanded. 

He gave her that wide-eyed, mock-innocently look. 

Robin could feel her hand ball into a fist, feel the tension in her arm. Her voice dropped to a low hiss. "One word, one word of denial Stinson and so help me god-"

He opened his mouth to talk, a half-smile curling his lips, but then he saw her expression and shut his mouth.

"Are you screwing around?" She asked him. It was her worst nightmare really. Sometimes Robin asked herself if she really felt anything for Barney, or if she was just in this for the sex and the challenge. But then he'd so something that would send her into a spin, make her stomach drop.

He'd look at her in a certain way, or say something human. He dropped the act for her, and only her. 

And Robin Scherbatsky knew that she was in love with him, deeper even than she'd fallen for Ted. Because Barney was her ally, her confident, her best friend. Life without him was unthinkable, in so many ways. It wasn't about romance, it was about living. 

"I needed some time to think, okay? The guys are trying to split us up," Barney explained. "I overheard Lily."

"What?" Robin felt all the colour drain out of her face.

Barney looked over towards their regular booth, empty at this time of night. "Do you really think we've got a chance, Robin?"

There was something vulnerable in his eyes. Robin knew that now wasn't the time to share her own fears. "Even money, I'd say," she shrugged carelessly.

"You've been snapping at me."

Robin frowned. "Well, dur! No sex in three days."

His gaze was so direct that it made her uncomfortable. "I'm not talking about this week."

Robin bridled. "That's unfair. And if that were true, why didn't you say something before?"

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "You wanna go get supper before you go to work?"

She tried to grin. "C'mon, man! Sex!"

He took her hand with a weird reluctance and, later, when he thrust inside her, Robin felt that she was losing him.

_Ring_

The biggest lie they told was that they had gotten engaged. And although, out loud, they laughed about it, inside Robin found herself hating Barney a little.

But she had no idea why. 

It was just that the longer she spent with Barney, the more she wanted something from him that she couldn't define.

"It's like chocolate," she tried to explain to Lily. "Chocolate is awesome. No one can deny that, huh?" She said, and Lily nodded sagely. 

"True that."

"Well, being with Barney, it's like I'm eating chocolate all the time. I'm sick with it. It's too indulgent. I feel like we're a couple of kids, like this is just too good to be true."

"But you guys argue?" Lily said with a puzzled frown.

How could Robin explain it? How could she explain how even the fighting lit her up inside. She couldn't even begin.

"I know, but it's the same. It's all about busting on him, and it feels like I've got to bring my A-game the whole time. It's exhausting."

Lily patted her arm. "You're just in the honeymoon period. It'll get better."

Honestly, it was that kind of sweet, grown-up nonsense that drove her and Barney to the whole engagement thing.

And it would have been great to have been able to blame their friends for what happened after, but Robin wasn't delusional enough to try.

_Thicke_

The realization crept up on Robin in the least auspicious situation, at a diner a few blocks from her apartment.

He was talking, just talking, some rambling thing that she was only half listening to, and Robin had an epiphany.

You're awesome, she thought. You're my boyfriend. You're everything I would have wanted five years ago, when I told Ted I didn't want to settle down.

But that's not what I want now. 

"Where is this going?" She asked him, interrupting his chain of thought. 

"Well dude, spoilers. I was just getting to the part when-" 

"Not the story, Barney," she said, frustrated. "_Us_. You and me. Where is this going? I mean, where do you see yourself in five year's time?" 

He gave her such a look of horror that it only cemented her certainty. "Where in the hell did that come from?" 

She sighed and tried to get her thoughts into order. "I've been thinking, is all. About us. About what I want."

"You know I'm not going to settle down, Scherbatsky. I'm not gonna give you a picket fence and all that crap. And anyway, what about you? You wanted to travel, right?" 

She gave him a long, hard look. "I did travel. Japan, remember? Argentina? Didn't exactly work out." 

"So what are you saying?" He looked utterly confused, and a little worried. 

"I'm saying that maybe it's time to grow up. Sure, this is fun and you're awesome but-" 

"Jesus, Robin! You're breaking up with me!" Now his expression was one of sheer, blank terror. 

"I'm not breaking up with you-" She tried to explain. 

His hand flew to his chest, covering his heart. "Thank god for that." 

"I'm just saying that I think we want different things." 

There was silence between them, and she could see everything in his expressive, mobile features. She could see the raw hurt there. 

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me," he said. 

"What?"

He laughed harshly. "You're saying you wanna get married?"

Robin shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe someday. Maybe I just want a serious relationship, not one where our idea of fun is to find another restroom to have sex in." 

That got to him, and she regretted the example almost as soon as she said it. He didn't say anything immediately, but just stared at her with a look of contempt. "But you love restroom sex. Traitor!" Then he shook his head, sinking down into his chair. "And I love you. How serious do you want?" 

She smiled sadly. "I love you to, Barney, I just-" 

"Want something more." He rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, you said." 

"If it makes a difference, I think this sucks," she said, feeling hot and cold. Was she really doing this? She'd only meant to talk to him, not end it. But somehow it felt like she was dumping him. 

"I love you," he repeated, like that was somehow a winning argument, an ace up his sleeve. 

"I know," Robin said gently. 

And in another universe, maybe she sat there and took it all back and she allowed herself to be happy and after a while they settle down into a routine and eventually moved in together and in twenty years time found themselves in a committed, happy and sometimes-serious relationship. 

But in this one all she could say is "I'm sorry," and break his heart.


End file.
